


you told me, if you love me, let it die

by Tiara_of_Sapphires



Category: Bridgerton (TV), Bridgerton Series - Julia Quinn
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Episode 1x7 coda, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Mention of suicide ideation, Reconciliation, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, no beta we die like men, please note the change in rating for additional chapters, these two have soooo many issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-18
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-16 04:34:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28825296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tiara_of_Sapphires/pseuds/Tiara_of_Sapphires
Summary: After the concert, Simon finds Daphne in a sorry state.Episode 7 coda
Relationships: Daphne Bridgerton/Simon Basset
Comments: 62
Kudos: 513





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So....yeah, this one is gonna hurt a bit.  
> [Title is directly from this song which I think would encapsulate a "bad end" to Simon and Daphne's story if they didn't get their heads out of their asses by the end but also the song works just in general for all of your angsty needs.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xJtBYAKBByk&ab_channel=starsetVEVO)  
> Note: Daphne is a bit more cognizant of her actions than what may be period-accurate…but it’s fanfic so who cares??  
> Enjoy!

Simon rode home alone after the concert.

Someone had let him know that Daphne was feeling ill and would go home early. He didn’t remember who; he could barely hear a thing over the ringing in his ears. He didn’t need an explanation, even if they offered him one. He knew what had happened. Daphne’s weeping heard through the doors told him volumes.

Her courses had begun, meaning that there was no child.

Where there should have been relief, there was only a gnawing sorrow.

He had kept himself in his seat until the end, telling himself that it was to keep appearances. If husband and wife were to leave early, the wife inconsolable, there would only be gossip and assumptions. They would be correct, which would only make it worse.

When he returned to the house, there were no carriages at the front, meaning whoever had brought Daphne home had already left. He supposed there was a small mercy in that; he had dreaded looking upon her mother if she knew half of the things he had done.

Jefferies offered the most perfunctory pleasantries when he arrived. Simon supposed that the glower in his eye would do well to scare off any of the staff who got in his way.

“The Duchess?” Simon asked shortly.

“In her room, Your Grace. Her mother and the doctor left mere minutes ago.”

Simon nodded, before heading to his study.

He wasn’t going to work on the ledgers that had brought over from Clyvdon. God knew that he was going to be drowning in paperwork for the next year, damn his father. That would have been the wise thing to do: use work to distract him. Instead, his plan was to drink himself silly.

Or, he was, until he saw that his favorite decanter of brandy and glasses were gone, leaving only the silver plate that usually accompanied them on his desk.

He grunted before turning back to his bedroom. It was likely he had left them in there when he had decided the night before that drinking before bed was a perfect way to keep his sleep a nonsensical void. He hadn’t wanted the presence of mind to conjure up fanciful dreams or horrid nightmares. Either one would have him yearning for his wife’s bed, and he couldn’t falter, even as weak as he had been the past weeks.

Simon stopped at the top of the stairs, turning towards Daphne’s room. There was faint light filtering under the door.

He wanted to go to her, to see if she was still awake and needed something. Not that she needed him in any capacity at this point. While part of him was still angry and betrayed, he wasn’t cruel. He told himself every day since that fateful night that he wasn’t being cruel by letting things take its course, allowing the threads that once bound them so tightly loosen and fall away.

His feet still carried him to the door, pausing as soon as he got his hand on the doorknob. He doubted that his presence would be welcome. Even as they had their moment in the concert box, his hand in hers, already piecing together plans in his mind to reconcile in near-certainty that she was with child, the walls were still there. Now those plans evaporated to nothing and there was no way to know where they stood.

The sound of glass breaking made the decision for him. Simon pushed his way in without thinking. Immediately, he saw Daphne, sat at her vanity, her back to him. She cut a beautiful silhouette, illuminated by the candle nearby.

Any greeting stopped in his throat as he took in the scene before him. His decanter was on the table, one glass in her limp grip, the other in pieces on the ground.

“Daphne—what?”

He shut the door behind him. It was so unlike her that Simon wasn’t sure if he was dreaming. She had come back obviously drunk from Lady Danbury’s party, but she had never been like this. He started forward, to snatch the glass from her hand, but Daphne turned to him and he stopped cold in his tracks.

Her face was pale, eyes red-rimmed and blank, her mouth in a thin, trembling line.

“I suppose I can offer my congratulations, Your Grace,” she said. Each word was flat, defeated. “You won.”

Simon’s entire body seized at the words, leaving him gasping for air. “Did I?”

It didn’t feel like he won anything. He felt hollowed out, clinging on to the edge of a cliff by only his fingernails. Each wracking sob that had filtered through the door hit harder than any blow Will had ever dealt in the boxing ring.

She continued, staring at him with such apathy that he might as well have been a stranger to her. “I am without child. Your vow to your father is intact. Soon, you will be rid of me.”

Her head lolled as she shut her eyes. “You got everything that you wanted: a wife, to keep away the mamas and Lady Whistledown’s gossip for good. After we quit London, you are free to—to do whatever you want.”

She waved her hand as if to conjure what things she thought he would get up to when they were separated. Brandy spilled out of the glass and onto the floor. The idea of her thinking him unfaithful grated his nerves. The rakish part of him died in the garden and he wouldn’t even attempt to resurrect it.

“Daphne, you—you should be in bed resting.”

He knew pathetically little about the intricacies of being a woman, much less what their courses did to them. He could only assume that the doctor and her mother told her to rest.

She opened her eyes to glare at him, as if expecting more from him. The faint candlelight reflected off of tears tracking down her face. He wanted to kiss them away, but knew that it was impossible now. She couldn’t possibly want anything to do with him now.

“Drinking will not change anything, Daphne,” he said, trying to at least sound like a friend, if anything. The hypocrisy of his words was not lost to him, as if he hadn’t found refuge in the drink during the trials and tribulations of his life.

She scoffed, a shadow of angry cruelty passing over her features, striking fear into his heart. “I suppose you’re right, Your Grace.” She slammed the glass on the table with enough force that he worried it would shatter in her hand.

He didn’t have time to fear a shouted word or for her to rise from her chair to strike him, as if he didn’t already know that it was something Daphne would never do. She didn’t even make to stand up. The anger left her as quickly as it came.

She pressed the back of her hand against her eye. Her chest hitched as high-pitched and wild sob escaped her mouth.

Simon stepped forward on instinct, wanting to reach out and comfort. Daphne staggered to her feet, backing away from him as if she was a wounded animal. The stool she had sat on tipped over and fell with a muted thud.

Simon wanted to kick himself for thinking he could approach her. Of course, she didn’t want him to touch her. After this, they would likely never touch again, except for appearances’ sake.

“It doesn’t matter,” Daphne gasped. “That’s the saddest, sorriest thing about this miserable business.”

She shook her head, clearly struggling to keep any sort of composure.

After a few moments, she sucked in a trembling breath and regarded him with tear-filled eyes. Her voice was clearer, but no less sorrowful. “No matter what, no matter how much I love you, it doesn’t change anything. I have nothing, no husband and no child. I am nothing.”

There would be a time for Simon to analyze her words, about her role in society as a woman, how everything came down to marriage and children and nothing else. How her entire life and value had been hinged on a handful of moments and opportunities that had disintegrated in her hands by both her doing and his.

He was too stuck on the word ‘love’.

She tossed her head back, eyes fixed towards the ceiling. “I wish God would take me tonight,” she croaked. “It would be a worthy punishment after my sin against you.”

“Don’t say that!”

The words ripped out of him, unchecked and loud, bring the whole world to a halt.

Daphne stared at him, wide-eyed and mouth quivering, and it was as if the scales had fallen from his eyes.

He crossed the room and collected Daphne into his arms. She didn’t push him away like he feared she would. That was a small victory.

“Why are you doing this?” she wailed. Her fist pounded against his chest, kitten-weak.

Simon tucked his face into her hair and inhaled. He had turned over that moment in his mind more times than he had cared to count: the fear and panic he had felt and the coldness in Daphne’s eyes as she had pressed down on him. They each had done a perfect job at tearing into the places that hurt the worst.

They lied to and betrayed each other. The danced around reconciliation, but their collective pride snuffed it out before they could get anywhere close. God, he wanted her by his side.

“We both did wrong, but all will be forgiven with time, my love.”

It felt good to say that. She had said that he didn’t love her, though he did, with every fiber of his being. He hardly thought himself worthy of her love anyway, something she gave freely and innocently even as he lied to her.

She sagged against him, limp like a child’s doll, as he led her the few steps to her bed.

“Promise?” Daphne sighed.

Simon couldn’t promise her that. He couldn’t promise it even to himself that they wouldn’t just end up being angry and betrayed all over again. In lieu of answering, he tucked her into bed. 

“You should sleep, Daphne.”

Simon almost dreaded it. What would happen when the drunkenness wore off and the walls returned? How could they progress from there?

Daphne caught his sleeve before he could turn to leave.

“Stay?” she asked, all naked and bleary hope.

Simon hesitated for what felt like the umpteenth time that night. The urge to run, to let her sleep alone and wake up to the consequences of her actions, pulled at him. Even then, he didn’t want to sleep alone for yet another night.

He removed his boots and trousers before tucking himself into bed. The duchess’s quarters had a much smaller bed than the one in his, but he tried to give her some space.

Daphne had other ideas, as she turned to nestle into his chest, still trembling and sniffling. For a moment, it was as if nothing had ever happened.

“I do love you, you know?” Daphne whispered. Her words were slurred and faint, but still clear enough to strike to Simon's core. “Even if you don’t feel the same.”

Simon inhaled gustily, his own emotions finally choking him.

Oh, if only she knew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yup, that is some sweet, sweet pain. The aftermath will come soon :P
> 
> Comments and kudos are appreciated!!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back and your patience and love is really appreciated! I unfortunately work in-person at a clinic 5 days a week during this pandemic and have little time/energy to work on my fics, so that's why I might not be updating as quickly.
> 
> Enjoy!

Simon slept fitfully through the night, watching the gentle rise and fall of Daphne’s chest when sleep eluded him. His dreams were unhappy ones anyway, filled with lonely houses and dance halls, a similar pattern that had taunted him over the past weeks.

He said a prayer of thanks that Daphne didn’t wake up in the middle of the night. He had no idea what sort of reaction she would have to him sleeping in her bed after so many nights of sleeping alone. Surely, she wouldn't take his intrusion kindly, even if she remembered how they embraced before she fell asleep.

In his sleeplessness, he had time to think about what he could say to her when she awoke, which was a bane and a boon. He knew what he wanted to say, but it was more in broad strokes of emotion, not in complete sentences. The ghost of his father still lingered, mocking him for his inability to speak like a proper gentleman.

Lady Danbury was right; he had been careless from the very beginning, thinking that it would be simple to remove his emotions from the ruse and lie his way through his marriage. All it did was great deep wells of pain in the both of them.

Everything was so complicated and now his every word would have grave impact on their futures going forward. Daphne was not with child, and, if they continued the way they had set forth, she would never have children. They would separate with as much decorum and dignity as possible and live separate lives, but she would not be able to bear a child when all would know that he was not the father. It would bring shame to herself and her family, her child a pariah in society.

Even the thought of her laying with another man, finding happiness and fulfillment with another, filled him with such potent jealousy that he had to catch his breath. He would be sentencing himself to a life where he would be constantly thinking about his wife moving on from him, taking lovers when he obstinately refused to touch her.

His breath caught as she turned in her sleep, facing her back to him. This was untenable, walking on eggshells around his own wife.

As soon as dawn light filtered through the window, Simon eased himself out of bed to call up a servant. He glanced back to see if Daphne stirred, but she seemed undisturbed. He didn’t have to wait long before there was a knock at the door. Never did a knock sound so loud. He looked to see if Daphne awoke, but still she slept.

He opened the door just a crack to see Daphne’s lady’s maid staring up at him, wide-eyed in shock. As the surprise quickly faded, Rose regarded him with the barest amount of civility that one of her position would allow.

“Your Grace?” she said softly with a curtsy.

He wondered how much Daphne had told her. She probably knew everything, including the lie that Simon had spun since the engagement. There was no getting between a lady and her maid.

“No need to set up the Morning Room; we shall break our fast here,” Simon said, keeping his voice low. “Some burnt fish, some toast, and a pot of tea. Please.”

Rose glanced over his shoulder for a moment before staring at him with a slightly-raised brow. “Garlic and raw egg as well, Your Grace?”

No doubt she saw the decanter and made her own conclusions. “Garlic and raw egg,” he agreed. “Perhaps a basin with water and cloth as well.”

Simon allowed himself the fantasy of washing Daphne’s face as she recovered from her previous drunkenness, having a quiet conversation on where they were to go from there. God, how he dreaded it.

“It will be done, Your Grace,” Rose said.

Simon shut the door as she left and sat down on a chair at the bedside. Even if the woman hated him, she would follow his orders for the benefit of her mistress. He didn’t like the idea of the servants gossiping or making assumptions about the state of Daphne’s health or their marriage, but it was an inevitability.

As he watched her, he wished things were different. He would stroke her hair or hold her hand as she slept, if he knew that she would like it. After years of not really knowing how to show affection, it came so easily with her. Simon wanted her by his side, her arm tucked in his, for the rest of his days. She was slipping away from him, with the confirmation that she wasn’t with child and the oncoming end of the season only adding more urgency to him finding a way to fix this.

Daphne stirred in bed and Simon went still. His stomach was in knots, heart pounding, as he watched her face scrunch as she woke up. Already, he could tell that she wasn't feeling well. Her expression pinched and winced as she took stock of what Simon knew was a painful head and stomach.

After what felt like ages, she opened her eyes.

Discomfort turned to something so unabashedly soft and open that Simon wished there was a painter in the room to capture the expression. It was something that was meant for someone else, someone better and more honest than he was.

Too soon, it was gone and changed to distrust and discomfort as she seemed to realize that he was actually in the room with her.

“Si—Your Grace?” she rasped.

He sat on the bed next to her as she tried to sit up. She looked terrible, shadows ringing her eyes and her skin sweaty and sickly. She eyed him with obvious suspicion, but made no obvious attempt to move further away from him. After a pause, it was clear that she was waiting for him to say something, perhaps a reason for why he was in her room. His tongue felt too heavy in his mouth, but he forced the words through.

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

“Terrible, quite honestly.”

There was that stiffness and distance in her voice that broke his heart a little. She wouldn’t lean on him for comfort like she did the night before, now that she was sobering up. The walls had returned and he hated it.

“’M sorry for that,” he murmured.

Daphne’s gaze turned sharp. “Sorry for what?”

Simon winced. Not only had the walls returned, but the moats and barbed words and distrust returned as well. No matter how much he wanted to, he couldn't tell a pretty lie and pretend that yesterday hadn’t happened. They couldn’t go on pretending that her grief hadn't happened.

“For last night, the sorrow you went through. I should have been there to support you as your husband.”

She shook her head, eyes suddenly bright with tears. “You—

The room deflated as a there was a knock at the door. Rose pushed her way in with a water basin, a maid following with a large tray of food.

“As you requested, Your Grace,” Rose said.

Rose set the water basin on the side table with an inscrutable expression. The maid set the tray on the bed next to Simon, eyes low and nervous.

“Is there anything else I can get for you, Your Graces?” Rose asked.

Daphne opened her mouth, but Simon interjected quickly. “No, thank you. That is all.”

She glared at him as Rose and the other maid excused themselves, leaving the two of them alone once again.

“I don’t appreciate you answering for me. I’m perfectly capable of speaking for myself,” she said stiffly, crossing her arms across her chest.

Simon wanted to kick himself. This was entirely not how he meant for the start of this; though he wasn’t sure what he was expecting the best-case scenario to be anyway.

“My apologies. I did not want to delay any further.”

She immediately tensed, fear flickering across her face. “Delay what?”

Those were the wrong words to say, obviously. He sucked in a fortifying breath. There was no running from this.

“Do you remember our conversation last night, after the concert?” he asked.

Daphne froze. He watched as emotions danced over her face before finally settling on embarrassment. “I remember being in hysterics. No wonder drinking like that is a man’s game,” she mumbled.

Simon smiled sympathetically. There were plenty of times when he had gotten drunk like she did, awaking the next day hating his past self and his bad decisions. “Is that all you remember? None of the words?”

The blush that bloomed high on her cheeks told him enough. There was some victory to have there, that she at least remembered that there was the offering of an olive branch.

“I thought I had dreamt it all,” she said. “Apparently, there is some truth to the fantasies flying in my head.”

He watched her tear off a piece of toast, eying with more concentration than such a thing would warrant, before eating it. She bypassed the glass of egg and garlic and poured herself a cup of tea with steady hands.

“Aren’t you going to eat?” she asked, gesturing at the tray. She wouldn’t look at him.

“This is more for you than for me, but I will take a piece of toast if that is okay with you.”

She stared at the plate and shrugged. Neither of them moved and Simon did his best to tamp down the irritated impatience that welled up in his chest.

Instead, he said, as gently as he could, “Daphne, look at me.”

Her body shuddered before she looked up at him. Her blue eyes were bright with unshed tears, still guarded and wary of him. The anger had faded, and that filled him with courage to speak.

“I do not wish to be alone," he said, "I know that now, as the weeks since our wedding have made it clear that a life without you in it is something that I cannot accept, not if I can help it.”

Miserable together or happy apart couldn’t be the two paths for them. He refused to let those be their fates.

“I lied to you from the very beginning and no words could describe my regret for that. You deserved the whole truth from the start and I shouldn’t have denied it for so long.”

Oh, how he wanted to touch her face, to kiss the trembling sadness away, but now was the time for words, albeit painful words.

“My conduct was unacceptable. As for what happened in our bed at Clyvedon…”

He gestured weakly between them, words failing him once again. How could he put into words what had happened?

Her expression crumpled the same way as it did the night before and her chin trembled with emotion. “I used you like a prize stallion, not like my husband,” she croaked. “I was blinded by betrayal and desire for a child that I did not see the pain that what I had done would cause you.”

She reached for his face, but she hesitated, her hand hanging in the air between them. He caught her wrist and pressed her hand to his cheek. They were ripping open wounds, draining them of their filth, so they could heal properly.

“The pain lingers, Daphne. I cannot lie to you and say that it doesn’t,” he whispered.

Lord knew how he had turned the events of that night over and over in his head, full of regret and betrayal and hurt. Physical blows in the boxing ring and barbs from fellow gentleman in society paled in comparison to how deep the act had cut into him.

She shut her eyes, but tears traced lines down her face. While the ‘hysterics’ of the night before were gone, her grief and remorse were palpable.

“’M sorry, Simon. So sorry.”

He turned into her hand and pressed a kiss to her palm. Oh, how he missed the affection and closeness. “It is forgiven, Daphne. It will take time to mend, for the both of us, but I do not wish to be angry anymore.”

Daphne smiled, a small, watery thing. “Nor do I.”

Her hand fell away from his face, but she caught his hand in hers as she sat up. They were close, close enough to kiss, but neither of them leaned forward. It wasn’t time just yet.

“Where do we go from here, Simon?”

He swallowed. Wasn’t that the question? Now that reconciliation was in hand, they had to walk forward. That was difficult to do, when a ghost still tore at him.

“Simon?” Daphne repeated, eyes wide with concern.

“I am afraid that I will not be the man that you need, not for you or any child we would bring into this world. I am afraid that perhaps the apple does indeed not fall far from the tree, that I will end up being as cruel and heartless as my own father.”

Daphne squeezed his hand and there was fire in her eyes, nostrils flaring with barely-contained emotion. For a moment, he wished that his father was alive so Daphne could unleash her anger at him.

“You are a better man than your father ever was,” she said. “I see that. You are a wonderful husband and would be a wonderful father to any children we may be blessed with.”

She said it was such conviction that Simon could almost start to believe her. Just having that hidden fear out in the air felt like a weight off of his shoulders. At least, Daphne would understand why he would have made the vow to his father in the first place. While it didn't fully exonerate him from the lies, it was another step in the road to fixing what they each had broken.

“You said that you loved me, last night. Did you mean it?”

Yet another fear. He knew the love he had in his own heart for her, but could not know what was if her statements the night before were simply out of drunkenness or if she actually meant them. She sank back into her pillows, another blush blooming prettily, but her eyes did not leave his face.

“I do. I don’t remember when I realized that I did, but it hasn’t faded, not even during the recent days.”

Suddenly, Simon found himself unable to look at her. His eyes fell to their joined hands, watching his own thumb swipe gently over her knuckles.

“It’s hard for me to say it back,” he murmured.

His mother died before he knew what love was and he was incapable of loving his father, even when he had been so desperate to please him. He had affection for Lady Danbury and his friends from Oxford, but never love.

Her other hand came up to tap on his chin in silent askance, startling him. She shook her head as soon as his eyes met hers. “You don’t need to, not now. You have shown it.”

Simon didn’t quite believe that she was satisfied with that, but he wasn’t satisfied with his inability to say the words. That would come in time, now that the barriers between them had fallen away.

They finished the food and tea in a comforting silence. Daphne allowed him to run a dampened towel across her face. It didn’t seem to do much to help, but it made her smile.

“I’m sure you have affairs to tend to, my dear,” Daphne said lightly.

Simon raised his brow at the obvious dismissal. “Wanting me gone so quickly?”

She rolled her eyes. “I think I shall sleep a little longer before I tend to my own duties. There is that ball we are throwing in a mere week’s time and I have only begun in making preparations. So stressful, being the mistress of a house.”

Simon sighed. Ah yes, the ball, the first event in the Hastings house since the previous duke’s death. Had he been alone, he would have dreaded it, maybe even found an excuse to cancel it entirely. Now that Daphne was by his side, it was almost exciting.

He made to rise from the bed, but a hand at his arm made him pause. He turned to see Daphne watching him, teary-eyed once again.

“We both deserve happiness, Simon. I find no better way to spite your father than to be happy in this life.”

She was right. Of course, she was right. He stood, not before leaning over and pressing a kiss to her forehead. Daphne sighed happily at the touch, bringing him back to the early days of their marriage, what was now in his grasp once again.

Simon wanted her by his side, her arm tucked in his, and slowly he could see a future with a child toddling between them. It was still murky, still lingering pain and doubt clinging to the potential happiness, but it was there.

Maybe, there was a path forward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :3 Please observe the rating change for future chapters! Extended this one to 4 chapters instead of 2!
> 
> Comments and kudos are appreciated and keep me going during these tough times!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the love that was showered on the last chapter! I really appreciate it!
> 
> Enjoy!

With how emotionally fraught the last several days were, the last thing Daphne wanted to do was throw a ball. They had the dubious fortune of closing out the season, which meant that all eyes would be on the décor and on the host and hostess, not just on the unmarried people on the dance floor. She wanted to retreat to the relative privacy of Clyvedon and be with Simon and continue to mend their marriage and figure out a good place in the house to place the portrait Mr. Granville had painted of them.

Despite her reservations, she resigned herself to the fact that she had really no choice in the matter. It was something to get used to, now that she was a duchess. The London house had a lovely courtyard and the weather was predicted to be temperate, so Daphne took advantage. Besides, a ball outside reminded her of the first dance she shared with Simon and she was feeling rather sentimental. Luckily, the shadow of an unwanted engagement wouldn’t be hanging over their heads this time.

She wandered about the house, looking for something to do. The invitations were all reviewed by her personally, some notable gentleman not attending, opting more than likely to the club than something so straitlaced as a ball. There was still a bit of time before she would need to get herself ready, so her hair was loose and her dress simple and utilitarian in case she was to get dirty with staff carrying food and furniture everywhere. She didn't need her evening dress potentially ruined by a spilled punch bowl or a wayward bottle of furniture polish.

“Daphne?”

She stopped and turned to see Simon at the end of the hallway walking towards her. Her heart jumped at the sight of him, only in joy instead of anger or fear. To live her life and not feel immediately upset at the sight of her husband was something that she had come to appreciate.

“Simon! I thought you were in your study," Daphne greeted.

He shrugged. “Couldn’t stand being cooped up in there. I was looking for you.”

She tilted her head in confusion. Surely, he could have called a servant to search for her. “Looking for me? Why?”

He stopped at a pace from her, looking at her up and down. His gaze was like a physical touch and she tried not to blush too hard.

“Your courses…are they finished?” Simon asked.

She looked down at herself, as if she didn’t already know that the bleeding had stopped the day before. It was no wonder that Simon didn't know that her courses were done; men weren't expected to keep track or care for such things. “They had been over for a couple of days. Why?”

Daphne caught the heat in his eyes before he closed the space between them.

“Wonderful,” he said as he wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her flush against him.

Daphne gasped before resting her hands on his chest, looking up at his face. He looked at her the same way he did on their wedding night, full of passion and hesitation. She offered him a smile as she raised herself to her toes and pressed a kiss to his mouth.

Simon immediately pressed closer to deepen the kiss, his free hand coming up to cup the back of her neck. She sighed against his mouth, relishing in how easily their bodies fit together.

She had missed when he touched her like that and it lit a fire inside of her. It had been enough getting reacquainted to the lingering touch on her hip as he passed her in the halls or his hand covering hers at the dining table.

This turned her insides to liquid and she wanted nothing more to retreat to their now-shared room so they could enjoy each other’s bodies.

“Shall we go somewhere more private?” she gasped, trailing off to a moan as Simon trailed kisses and nips over her throat. Their bedroom felt miles away, but that never stopped them before.

“I think I like you right here,” Simon said with a grin that she could feel rather than see. “Besides, nobody should be in this wing right now. Everyone else is in the courtyard, getting ready for our little party.”

Daphne wasn’t too sure about that, since the staff had been milling around every corner of the house up until that point. Any concern of being seen by someone went out the window as Simon rucked up her dress. He ran his hand up her bare thigh before cupping her between her legs.

His hand was so warm where he touched her, slipping under her undergarments. She gasped against his mouth as his fingers teased over her heated skin and pressed inside of her.

She had touched herself in the days between that dreadful night and when her courses began, out of frustration and pent-up need in her lonely bedroom. She would find her pleasure, but it wasn’t the same as when Simon touched her. His fingers were bigger and longer than hers and he had quickly learned the ways of turning her knees to jelly.

Daphne could only grab at his shoulders, fisting the fabric of his shirt, as his fingers moved faster and faster inside of her, bringing her to her peak before she could think to get him undressed.

“Simon!” she called out, shivering and clinging to him so she wouldn’t crumple to the ground. She tucked her face against his neck, as her release ebbed and left her boneless.

The last time they had done this, on the stairs between their separate bedrooms, the tryst had been laced with sorrow and bitterness. He had brought her pleasure with his mouth before leaving her bereft, now allowing her to return the favor. While she was satisfied now, she wouldn't let him get away from her that easily.

“I need you, Simon. Please,” she gasped. She didn't attempt to disguise her desire for him.

In a flurry of motion, Simon pushed his trousers and smallclothes down his hips to free his manhood. Daphne clung to his shoulders as he hitched one of her legs around his waist, opening her up to him. He lined himself up with her entrance and thrust inside of her.

She winced at the stretch for a moment, but pleasure quickly chased away any of the pain. For a moment, they just stood together, relishing the feeling of him fully seated inside of her. Daphne tightened herself around him and that seemed to set him off. Simon panted against her mouth, rocking his hips as he kept her pinned between his body and the wall. She missed this, feeling so full with him.

Simon’s free hand wandered, squeezing her breast through her dress and grabbing her bum to pull her even closer to him. Their kisses were open, messy things, mindless in their own pleasure. Daphne couldn’t even be embarrassed at how loud and obscene they were.

He groaned unabashedly, his hips bucking almost punishingly hard against her as the rhythm they had turned frantic.

“Oh,” she gasped.

She knew what this was, now that she wasn’t an ignorant girl. She knew that he wasn’t pulling away from her like before. He went stiff for a moment, his arms tightening around her, lips latching to the side of her neck, before rocking against her again, this time slow and languid.

Simon laughed aloud, out of breath, before pulling away just enough to tuck his manhood back in his clothes. Daphne could feel his seed dripping down her thigh and she blushed.

“You—,” she started, feeling suddenly dizzy with happiness. She didn't know how to put words to what had just happened, much less any ladylike words.

“Yes,” Simon said with a smile. He seemed to get her meaning immediately. “It is time to move forward together.”

Relief almost bowled her over. Her previous sorrow could almost be completely forgotten, now that they had engaged in the marital act without lies and betrayal tugging at them. If she were to become with child from this moment, everything would have been worth it.

“Now I have to lay on my back for hours on end to make sure this stays inside of me,” she pouted, gesturing down at herself. “Guests are going to be arriving soon.”

Simon smiled and pressed a kiss to her cheek, under her ear, down her neck.

“None of that, my darling wife. We will have more opportunities later,” he whispered against her throat, a promise low in his voice. “Now, we have a ball to throw.”

He backed away from her, but not before kissing her deeply one last time. He righted his clothes and strode back down the hallway as if nothing had happened.

Daphne took significant more time to make herself look presentable before meeting Rose to prepare for their guests. If Rose noticed any evidence of their lovemaking, she did not comment on it, but Daphne still reddened in embarrassment at the debauchery of it all.

And, when she saw him waiting in the courtyard as the hour for their guests' arrival approached, handsome as could be and happy to see her, it took everything she had not too drag him into the nearest dark corner to join with him once again.

More opportunities, indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! Sexy times!
> 
> Comments and kudos are appreciated and keep me going during these tough times!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! Thank you so much for following this fic so far! All of the comments and kudos really warm my heart <3
> 
> Now, let's finish off this thing!
> 
> Enjoy!

The season had ended with a rainstorm, the death of Lord Featherington, and Colin’s departure to the Continent. While Daphne would miss her family and the relative ease being away from the duchy, she was glad to finally leave the stifling ton for Clyvedon.

They couldn’t quite come back in the same way that they had first come to Clyvedon, as blissful newlyweds. The excuse for a honeymoon had long since passed.

When Simon and Daphne returned, they continued their work in tending to the duchy and tending to each other.

It wasn’t easy. There was still that hesitation from both of them, still that fear. The trust couldn’t instantly be fixed after what they had gone through in the weeks following their marriage. The lack of hostility and bitterness made their discussions more open, any arguments they had less crushing.

He was trying. _They_ were trying. That was what truly mattered. There were no secrets keeping them from loving each other as fully as they could. Daphne could live happily with that, even if they were never blessed with a child. She still hoped. She was young, with plenty of years ahead to bear children, but didn’t want this hanging over her head for longer than what was absolutely necessary.

Summer turned to autumn, bringing a chill with it. They still had walks in the garden, though they had to bundle up and be more cautious when engaging in marital relations outside, lest they catch an illness.

As winter crept closer, biting winds and cold rain kept them mostly inside. While they were plenty busy with guests and tending to the duchy in preparation for the frigid months ahead, they still had time for each other.

In the middle of November, Daphne noticed that she hadn’t bled as she was supposed to. A day passed, then two and three. Her linens were clean when she awoke in the morning, as were her undergarments. When Rose attended to her on the third day, she gave her a wide-eyed stare as she collected the linens for cleaning.

“Perhaps, Your Grace, there will be happy news before Christmastime?” Rose asked. The words were light and offhanded, but there was some hope there.

Daphne shook her head, though she could feel her heart race at the prospect. “Perhaps, but not certain. Let us make a fuss if my courses don’t begin in a few days hence.”

When a week and then a fortnight passed, Daphne allowed a flicker of hope to warm her breast. Perhaps, she was with child.

Daphne stood in the middle of the bedroom, dressed for the day but unsure of what to do. It was too cold for her to take a walk in the gardens for her to collect her thoughts. Writing a letter to home was an idea, but if she were to solicit advice from her mother, it would take ages for her to receive any sort of response. She wasn’t willing to wait that long to speak to her husband about it.

Mustering up her courage, she made her way to Simon’s study. Even after months since arriving in Clyvedon, he still was stuck with working on the steward’s ledgers, still organizing his late father’s affairs. It was exhausting, something that kept them held back from making the duchy truly theirs, but it had to be done.

Daphne let herself in to see Simon at his desk, staring at a piece of parchment like it had personally insulted him.

“Good morning, my darling,” Simon said, not looking up from his work.

If she had an ounce of Benedict’s artistic skills, she would paint a thousand paintings of him. Perhaps, their child would have his stern brow. His stern brow and curly hair, and her blue eyes.

“Simon.”

Maybe it was the tremble that she let linger in her voice that had her husband’s eyes snapping to her face.

She wrung her hands, suddenly unsure of what to say. The truth was a good start, to dispel the thinly-veiled panic in Simon’s face as the silence drew out.

“My courses had been due for over a fortnight now. I haven’t bled,” she said, forcing a levity to her voice that she didn’t feel.

Saying it aloud to Simon seemed to make it all very real. She could be with child and that would bring so many changes to their lives. She didn’t allow herself to entertain her secret fear of the pain and risk of death during childbirth. Her nightmares had reminded her enough of it.

Simon stood from his chair and rounded his desk to take her into his arms. Daphne sank into his embrace, as she so loved to do.

“I suppose we cannot truly know until some more time has passed,” she said against his chest. “It’s not unheard of for ladies to not bleed for a month and not actually be with child.”

They knew all too well, if the tragedy at the concert told them anything. She didn’t want to place too much hope in it if it would only end in disappointment. Her mother had been blessed with many healthy children; that did not guarantee that she would follow suit.

She leaned away from him to find his expression inscrutable and her heart sank a little. There was always that lingering fear in her heart that he would decide that he didn’t want children, not out of his vow to his father but because he simply couldn’t stomach the idea of having a child.

“Please, Simon, say something,” she whispered, unable to mask the rising panic in her voice.

Finally, his face broke into a small, trembling smile.

“That is good news, my dear,” he whispered.

He backed up just enough to kneel before her and press a kiss to the flat of her stomach.

“Very good news,” he repeated.

Daphne made a sound between a laugh and a sob as she curled herself over him, burying her face into his hair. The sheer relief of it, knowing that they were united in their happiness, made her want to cry.

Simon looked up at her with eyes that were as damp as hers.

“I love you Daphne, and I will love our child. Nothing else matters beyond that.”

When they embraced once again, it was as if they were the only two people in the entire world, with a happy future spread out before them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay!! Happy ending!
> 
> Comments and kudos are appreciated and keep me going during these tough times!


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